Tom Riddle - Misunderstood
by simsimluv
Summary: The Oh-So-Evil Voldemort may not be as evil as he seemed. The untold story of Tom Marvolo Riddle where Tom is found by Dumbledore who brings him to Hogwarts. During his time there, he is entranced by a beautiful she-elf and witch by the name of Arwen Undomiel. Best friends become more in this tale of love and adventure. *7 stories for 7 years and one more for his later years*


**Chapter One - Escape**

I stared out the window, overlooking the gloomy courtyard of Wool's Orphanage.

Thunder boomed over the roof as rain poured down the streets of London, soaking the screaming children down below.

I longed to have a friend. But every time I tried to do so, they always seemed to get hurt mysteriously... like it was magic.

Even though I wouldn't touch the children, blood splurted from their noses, or bruises just started appearing on their skin randomly. They always ran away in fear, which always left me alone, crying in my room, just wanting to have a friend. Or a family, even.

I only just found out weeks ago that my mother died giving birth to me and my father, who's name was given to me, left my mother, with nothing left.

I always swore one day, when I got older, I would kill the man who left me. But I was only 8 years old, in a depressing orphanage, with nothing to do but sulk in my room and be a constant target for older children.

\- 2 years later

"Happy Birthday, Tom." I whispered to myself, staring at the ticking clock (it read midnight), almost freezing to death on a cold winter night of the 31st of December. Most of the children in Wool's orphanage were gone, in warm beds, with parents, while I was stuck here, with older children, who would always make fun of me.

I huddled up in the thin cotton blanket, shivering from the biting wind and the freezing cold outside.

I am Tom Marvolo Riddle, 10 years old, an orphan to a disappointing father, and a dead mother. Children made fun of my appearance. While they were pink-skinned and plump, with their light hair combed to perfection and bright eyes, I was pale, skinny and had uncombable black hair, which stood out in odd places. Sometimes, when I looked through the mirror with my dark brown eyes, my hair magically fixed itself onto my head. Often times, I had to use grease to slick it back, as was the fashion these days.

Many months had passed and I soon became more aware of my abnormality. Whenever the older children had come to drag me away to the toilets, I always seemed to be a foot away from them whenever they came closer. If they managed to catch me, I would scratch and kick and massive bruises would form on their skin right away and they would always run. I even resorted to stealing precious objects of theirs and hide them in a little box in my cupboard in my room.

I could tell Mrs. Cole, our caretaker, was becoming more and more uncomfortable in my presence. If she thought I was asleep, she would always talk to someone outside my door about taking me to an asylum. This frightened me quite a lot. Maybe I could try to not let my abnormality get the best of me.

But that didn't last. If I was in the park one day, snakes would slither up to me and talk to me. It surprised me at first I could understand them and talk back to them, but then I realised it was part of my strangeness.

Mrs. Cole continued to be more uneasy with me. She would flinch whenever I came near, and tried to avoid me as best as she could. It was the middle of summer now and I could feel the uneasiness unfold through the orphanage. I knew it. I could feel it. They were going to send me to an asylum. I wouldn't let them. Even though I hated this place, I would not let them take me away to some new place where they would treat me like a criminal, locked up, in a white room, chained to the brim. I would not let them!

I could hear the clicking of Mrs. Cole's short heels, and someone else's squishing boots. A knock on the door came, followed by her quivering voice. "Tom, you have a visitor." The door opened and an aged man with a silver beard, dressed in the most peculiar of clothes stepped inside. Were they... robes? My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but quickly relaxed them to show no emotion.

"Hello, Tom," the old man said, in a calming voice.

"Are you coming to take me away, then?" I asked, not even bothering to be polite.

"No. You see, I'm a professor."

"A professor? A professor of what?"

"Of magic, Tom," he continued his calming voice. "For people like you and I."

"Like me?" I asked with uncertainty. "You mean, you can make animals do what you want without training them? You can make bad things happen to people? And you can move objects without touching them?"

"Indeed, Tom. And I can do so much more than that."

"Prove it, then." I ordered. I wasn't sure whether I should believe him or not. Then, suddenly, the closet blew up in flames and something shook inside.

"I think there's something in your closet wanting to get out." He said. I moved towards it, unafraid of the flames because I was pretty sure he wouldn't hurt me.

Opening the closet, the little box where I kept the stolen objects of the other children was rattling furiously. I grabbed it and took it out, where I emptied it, revealing the contents inside.

"Now," continued the man, "I must be leaving. You will receive a letter in time for school. Goodbye, Tom. And make sure you return those objects to whom they belong." And he smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. Then I realised, this man could be trusted.

When he opened the door I blurted out, "I can speak to snakes too. They find me. Is that normal for someone like me?" The man stopped in his tracks.

"I find, Tom, that everyone has abnormal traits in their blood." And he left without another word.

The next month was dreadful. But the only thing I looked forward to was the promised letter from the professor. Then, around noon on July the 31st, a brown barn owl carrying something that looked like a letter flew into my room. It held out it's clawed leg and I untied the rope, opening the letter in the process. Inside it read,

 _Dear Mr Riddle,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of school items you shall require this year. School term starts on the 1st of September and we await your letter no later than August the 1st._

 _Sincerely yours,_

 _Prof. Dumbledore_

 _Dep. Headmaster_

I understood what that man meant. I was a wizard! My hands shook as I unfurled the next piece of parchment which contained what I needed for the school year. I needed 3 sets of plain black robes, a cauldron, and a wand. Plus I need either an owl, a cat or a toad and a bundle of books.

But where was I supposed to get them? I couldn't find these in London, or anywhere for that matter. What was this letter saying?

I shrugged and was about to grab some parchment and a pencil to write a quick yes to Hogwarts, when with a crack, the man that had visited me last month appeared in my room. My eyes widened in amazement and I rubbed them to make sure I wasn't in a dream. I wasn't.

The twinkle in his eyes appeared and he laughed before saying,

"Forgive me for my sudden apparition but I am here to bring you to Hogwarts and get your school supplies with you... There's no need for you to write a letter back since Headmaster Dippet is expecting your arrival already."

The headmaster already expected my arrival? This was interesting. The professor led me down the cold stone steps of the orphanage and out the steel gates.

On the street, a car was waiting for us. I clambered inside and gasped in amazement at how roomy it was. I could stand up in this car if I wanted to.

The professor smiled and said, "Forgive me if you don't know my name yet. I am Professor Dumbledore. I will be your Transfiguration teacher this year." So _he_ was the one that sent me that letter! I guess this day kept on getting better and better.

The long and winding road became shorter as we came into view of a small little town. But people were bustling through. I guessed we were in a busy neighbourhood in downtown London. The car stopped abruptly. We parked in front of some pub called _The Leaky Cauldron_. Professor Dumbledore opened the car doors and we walked out together.

He opened the shiny car door and beckoned me forward through the molding wooden one.

Inside, many more people were there. They all had robes as well, which made an obvious point that they were wizards. As we passed, many greetings to professor Dumbledore were called out and he returned them with a warm smile.

"Ah, here we are, Tom." said Dumbledore as we came to a brick wall just outside the pub. He took out his wand from underneath his robes and tapped the brick wall. Clicking and clacking, the bricks swirled apart into a tall archway.

"Woah!" I exclaimed.

Shops were lined on every corner, filled with witches and wizards. Birds and rats twittered and squeaked in their cages. People lined up in shops for wands, cauldrons and books alike. I quickly checked my jacket for my list of supplies and slipped it out. I kept looking up and down, checking where I could find my things. But I had only one slight problem. I didn't have any money.

Being an orphan, either no parent would take me in or I had no known relatives who would do the same. Dumbledore must've seen my puzzled expression because he grabbed my arm gently and led me through the bustling streets into a clearing with a magnificent white marble building.

A great wooden door with a gold handle opened as Dumbledore touched it. Inside, a great marble hallway was laden with high desks. On those desks were creatures that somewhat looked a lot like goblins from the fairy tales Mrs. Cole used to read us when we were fairly young.

They told of tiny ugly creatures with long pointed ears and fingers. They liked to hoard gold and jewels and tortured and ate wandering travellers who happened to pass on their secluded territory. These stories never frightened me. But these goblins seemed peaceful. There was no sound. Most of them were weighing jewels and writing letters with long fluffy quills. Every so often a goblin would cough or drop a bag of money which made it awkward with the eerie silence that carried throughout the hall.

When Dumbledore and I finally made it towards the end of the hall to a tall podium, a wrinkled goblin with half-moon glasses peered down at us. Dumbledore gave him a court smile and said,

"Hello. I am here for a withdrawal from Mr. Riddle's vault."

"Ah," said the goblin in deep raspy voice. "And does Mr. Riddle have his key?" Dumbledore nodded and reached in his cloak to pull out a small golden key. The wrinkled goblin then summoned from a clang of a hammer on his desk and another goblin with a pale face and a long nose.

"Come." he ordered with a slightly high voice. We followed him through the dark passageway down a rocky cavern. We hopped on a some sort of train contraption and clanked through down the great cavern.

When we halted to a stop at vault 573, the goblin asked for the key and Dumbledore passed it to him. While the goblin was busy fumbling with the key, Dumbledore explained that the school would allow a small amount of money for those who were either orphans or for those whose family didn't have much.

The goblin soon unlocked it and in there was, a small amount of gold coins, a moderate amount of silver and quite a lot of copper ones too. Dumbledore explained that the gold coins were called Galleons, the silver ones Sickles and the copper ones Knuts. He then conjured a bag out of thin air with his wand and gave it to me, only for me to scoop up as much as the bag could carry and we went back through the train contraption and out of the bank.

Upon our exit, we encountered a tall man with long brown hair with long white robes. He carried some sort of grace and regalness that shone throughout his pale face. Dumbledore shook hands with him and they began to talk like old friends. Perhaps they were.

Beside him, a tall, thin girl about my age was gazing wistfully beside him. She had long dark hair that cascaded down to her chest. Her face was a creamy skin tone with high cheekbones and bright blue eyes.

She was beautiful. She wore a light purple dress with a shining necklace that had silver tendrils twirling around a white gem that looked like a star. Her face glowed with the light coming from it, which made her look even more radiant.

She seemed embarrassed, like she didn't want to draw attention to herself. But it seemed as though there were some giant light that shone on her. People around her were glancing her way as though she was a flashy attraction they couldn't miss.

I could feel her pain. I was the one who always stood out of the crowd. The one strange and strange-looking child.

Then Dumbledore's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "Forgive me once again, Tom. This is Lord Elrond. Head Council of Rivendell, and his daughter, Arwen."

Arwen. Her name was Arwen. It suited her perfectly, the gracefulness of it, the peacefulness of it. But it also carried a strong feeling. After Dumbledore introduced me, the two groups went separate ways.

We wove through the streets of bustling people until we reached a place called _Ollivander's Fine Wand Making since 32 B.C._ The professor beckoned me forward and I awkwardly walked in. Dumbledore mumbled that he had to get something at some sweet shop and left me alone.

In front of me was a mahogany desk cluttered with quills, scrolls of parchment and a few piles of galleons. Small dusty boxes were improperly lined throughout the never ending shelves down the tight hallways that led to God knows where.

A tumbling noise rang from afar and a ladder slid into existence that held a man in his forties with silver shoulder length hair and small wrinkles all over his face. He wore red robes with white lace on the collar and the sleeves and had a kind and trustful expression. When he saw me, a huge grin spread on his face. He hopped down from the ladder and went to the desk.

"Hello Mr-uh-" he stammered in a gravelly voice.

"Riddle." I answered for him. "Tom Riddle."

"Ah, Riddle. Let's see." he said, moving to the back of one of the hallways. "Black eyes, black hair... Ah! Here we are. Holly, phoenix feather, 11", nice and supple... Try it out."

I waved it a bit only to get water splurting out and soaking the wood floors. But I couldn't help being drawn towards it. Mr. Ollivander shook his head, mumbling a couple no's before returning back to the shelves.

The next wand he pulled out was a chestnut wand, 10", and it was unyielding he said. That one didn't work either: it made the wood warp and move under my feet. Mr. Ollivander mumbled a few more no's before grabbing one more wand.

"Let's see. Yew, 13 and a half inches, phoenix feather. An unusual combination _but_ it's unyielding and quite powerful, I think."

I grabbed it slowly and instantly, I felt like this one was the one. A power surged through me and I felt invincible.

Mr Ollivander took a shaky breath behind me and sighed, "This is the one for you I think, but Mr Riddle, do not be fooled by its marvelous power. For you might be corrupted inside by all the power you so possess." I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

"What do you mean?" I said. Mr Ollivander just smiled, shook his head, patted me on the shoulder and left in the numerous halls of wand boxes.

A few moments later, Dumbledore came in with a small box. "Ah, I see you've got your wand, Tom. Let's go get your other things."

So we did. First we went down to Madam Malkin's where I got my robes, then to Flourish and Blotts for my many books and quills and parchment and finally down the road to Potages' Cauldron Shop. Now I had everything I needed.

The last thing for me to do was hop on the train. But my excitement quickly wavered when I realized the train left tomorrow.


End file.
